


Aesthetics and Identity

by Himmelreich



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himmelreich/pseuds/Himmelreich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>similarity</b> /sɪməˈlarəti/ <i>The state or fact of being similar.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>„In fact, you do resemble him a lot, Sir, the way he looked in his younger years.“</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Aesthetics and Identity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zebulon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebulon/gifts).



> **A/N:** Dear zebulon, first off I wish you a happy holiday season! I really hope that this story will be to your tastes - I do not really ship the couple in question, but their dynamics somewhere in between genuine respect and affection and inherited resentment and rejection certainly are fascinating, so I hope you will like this piece nonetheless. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write about them! Sincerely, your Yule Tide Writer.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta who helped me whip this piece into shape (no pun intended).

**\----------------  
** **i.   a priori**  
\----------------

“Thirty-seven, Vlad.“  
“Hmhm.“  
“There are thirty-seven Orbital Clans, and yet I am the unlucky one who got assigned this aggravating task.“  
Vlad sighed, which was all the expression of disinterest in the topic he could dare show to his Count.  
“Well, you did say he was Her Highness‘ favourite after all, and it was her wish that he stay with you, so they probably decided on this in order to reward you for your loyalty and to reaffirm your good relations with the Emperor and his family.“  
Cruhteo made a rather undignified noise of irritation at that, his expression even more stern and somber than usual, a perpetual frown already etched on his face as a permanent feature in younger years.  
“I am aware, and I am proud of my Clan‘s standing, but this way of rewarding me for my service still seems more akin to a punishment for failure, especially with the explicit conditions that I received alongside the general task.“

His fingers tapped an angry rhythm on the grip of his cane seemingly subconsciously, which was the last flashing warning sign for everyone to try and evacuate from the Count and his notoriously short temper at the earliest convenience, but Vlad had no reason to fear the young lord and his occasional outbursts. To an extent, he could understand the other‘s anger, too. After this long and rather arduous travel all the way to Vers and the initial compliments and promises of a reward for his diligent duty as an Orbital Knight, what he had received was not, as probably expected by him, a third Kataphrakt and holder of Aldnoah for his Clan, but instead the assignment to take a Terran under his wing. Despite his words, Vlad was not sure if he, put in the Count‘s position, might not have outright complained to the Emperor about this degradation, but in the end, of course complying with His Majesty‘s wishes was absolute and making choices in such matters was not in the power of a Count. Thankfully, those explicit conditions made sure it was not Vlad's problem to deal with, but Cruhteo‘s and Cruhteo‘s alone.

“If it was only accepting him into my general staff, I could simply assign him some position among the soldiers where he would stay out of my sight, but with this, that is no longer possible. I really wonder what they expect me to do with someone like that, as I have no need for a perfectly useless individual that I have to waste time on for no immediate purpose.“  
At this, Crutheo angrily stared down the data displayed on the screen in front of them as if he expected to be able to threaten the file into changing its contents to a more agreeable version by mere powers of intimidation.  
  
Yet, the words remained written where they were, right beneath the general information on the boy and the degree of his education and military training, clear and unambiguous.  
 _“Slaine Troyard is to remain at Count Cruhteo‘s side as a personal escort at all times.“_

 ** **\----------------**  
** **ii.   principles**  
 **\----------------**

In some ways, it was a reward after all, Cruhteo came to realise. The boy was eager and polite, soft-spoken and compliant, a shy, silent shadow following him around without any complaints. It felt more akin to how the actual royalty far, far away from the battlefield might keep attendants more for show of status than actual use than it did to the next in command officers Cruhteo usually surrounded himself with inside his fortress.  
“Doesn‘t it make you homesick, this view from here?“  
Cruhteo turned in time to see Slaine flinch at the direct address in a conversational tone instead of a command, his eyes trained on the transparent floor of the parlour, fixed on the distant blue of the oceans rather than that of Cruhteo‘s eyes.  
“Earth ceased being my home years ago, Sir.“  
His voice was quiet but steady, and Cruhteo gave a short joyless laugh.  
“Yet, most humans remain absurdly loyal and drawn to the place where they originate from, too afraid to cut any ties and start over new, to evolve.“  
At this, Slaine dared raise his head a little, meeting Cruhteo‘s probing gaze. His whole body spoke uncertainty, since while Cruhteo had, in compliance with his general instruction, taken the time to address him in order to explain details about his and the other Clans‘ Landing Castles or to correct him on code of conduct and behaviour before, a seemingly unprompted conversation such as this was unchartered territory. Cruhteo had retired to the parlour to rest for a bit, dismissing all his subordinates but the one that was in no need of other instructions, and usually, moments such as these were spent in utter silence.  
  
“There is nothing left on Earth that would tie me to it“, Slaine finally said, voice wavering only a little. “No-one, I mean.“  
As opposed to Vers, do you really believe that, you impertinent fool? Cruhteo felt the question on his tongue, poisonous and sharp, like the tip of a rapier, so very tempting to use in one swift jab to see the boy crumble beneath his own doubts and solitude. It would not have been the first time, of that the Count was sure.  
“Is that so“, Cruhteo drawled instead, noticing only now how his fingers had begun the tapping again.  
“Well, I suppose that means I won‘t have to worry about you running off to Earth while you are stationed here.“  
“I would never!“  
The boy violently shook his head, fists clenched at his sides, eyes wide and an open book to read. He was too honest a liar, Cruhteo thought, feeling his lips pull into a sardonic smile.  
“So you never even considered it, I see. Your loyalty to the Vers Empire is impressive, Slaine Troyard.“  
Slaine opened his mouth as if to reply, then reconsidered and lowered his head again, shoulders subconsciously drawing up as if he was attempting to hide inside a tortoise shell made of the rough blue cloth of his kind‘s enemy‘s uniform.  
  
It was Cruhteo‘s move, it always was. He could choose to crush the boy‘s spirit with words alone, to taunt him with what seemed to be just out of arm‘s reach and yet lost to Slaine forever, to remind him of that he had no future on Vers, and that the person he adored so much had been the one to send him away with Cruhteo, in his best interest as may be, but for him it remained abandonment of the cruelest kind. Cruhteo could do all that, and no-one would voice any complaints, because it was only natural for a Knight of Vers to treat a lowly Terran like that, to constantly put him in his rightful place.  
“It is for the best, really. With your haphazard flying, you would not even make it past the Satellite Belt.“  
Even from where Cruhteo was sitting across the room, he could see the colour creeping up the boy‘s face. Instead of a Kataphrakt, Cruhteo had been awarded with a pilot for whose aeronautics ‘unorthodox‘ was almost too weak a word, and instead of a soldier he had been awarded with a boy who was almost infuriatingly defensive and incapable of speaking up. Not that it would have been tolerated, of course, not that it had been tolerated in the past - Cruhteo could still feel the distant echo of the impact from the last strike where the pommel of his cane lay heavy in his hand - and yet for some irritatingly incomprehensible reason he sometimes almost hoped for the boy to become less resigned. If there was an answer as to why he thought so, Cruhteo assumed he would not like it, because it had to be against all reason, and emotions were nothing he considered a motive to operate on.  
  
“Troyard.“  
He heard anger in his own voice, anger at himself for instigating this conversation that led nowhere but to the nagging feeling that there was something he did not see, and anger turned on the one who had no choice but to take it upon himself. Slaine raised his head again, face wary but calm. He might be resigned, but he was no longer afraid, Cruhteo thought.  
“You‘re dismissed for the remainder for the day.“  
There was a moment of silence during which Slaine just stared at him in silent surprise, before he swiftly changed his position into a deep bow.  
“I bid you good night then, Sir. Thank you for your tutelage.“  
With that, he left, and all that Cruhteo could think was what utter irony it was that Slaine probably even honestly meant what he had said.

 ** **\----------------**  
** **iii.   paralogism**  
 **\----------------**

Slaine constantly trailing behind him had become such a fixture in Cruhteo’s life that sometimes he even forgot about the boy's presence altogether. It had only been a few weeks of him staying in the castle when, during a video conference with Countess Femianne, the businesslike discussion about the current state of affairs on their respective castles suddenly took an unexpected turn.  
  
“My, my, I see you‘ve decided to take your illegitimate child officially under your wing, then?“  
There was a short beat of silence, then Cruhteo blinked, taken aback, wondering if he had misheard or missed a tasteless joke, but Femianne's expression was one of poorly masked genuine interest, her eyes fixed slightly above his right shoulder. He could practically feel the awkwardness among the staff on the bridge spread, the dead silence only disrupted by a small cough of his first communications officer.  
“My illegitimate chi- pardon me?“  
“That boy“, the Countess went on, apparently enjoying the sight of Cruhteo‘s open-faced indignation upon this off-handed remark, a self-satisfied smile on her face, “he does look quite like you, after all.“  
Cruhteo sharply turned his head to follow her gaze at that. To his credit, the boy looked about as shocked at this grave misunderstanding as Cruhteo was furious - which only served to add insult to injury, somehow. After all, Cruhteo thought grimly, it was quite an honour to be mistaken for a member of his family, and even when it came to physical appearance, he really was not the worst person you could be compared to, in his modest opinion.  
“That boy is not my child, don‘t be ridiculous“, Cruhteo ground out between his teeth and turned back to face the screen. “He‘s Doctor Troyard‘s son, who was put under my care at the Princess‘ personal request.“  
“Oh, now that you mention it, I might have heard some rumours like that“, Femianne replied with a pensive pout, tilting her head slightly to the side. “And here I was already looking forward to working with your successor in the future.“  
“I do not intend to be in need of a successor anytime soon.“ Cruhteo narrowed his eyes and felt the urge to turn on his heels, leave the bridge and end this conversation, but he knew that he could not lose face in such a manner.  
  
“May I suggest we go back to topic, Countess? I‘m a busy man and do not have time for idle gossip.“  
Femianne gave him a tight-lipped smile in response, and the rest of their discussion was short and icy in tone. When the conversation link was severed, the entire bridge fell into an uncomfortable, heavy silence, everyone in anxious anticipation of the storm that would nevitably follow Cruhteo‘s current calm as he slowly turned around to face Slaine again, giving him a once-over as if seeing him for the first time. The boy seemed to try being unobtrusive and taking up as little space as possible while standing perfectly straight, eyes fixed on a point slightly away from Cruhteo‘s face. Regarding their looks, Cruhteo could see the similarities without fail - they were both of Germanic descent originally, sharing the same light blond, slightly wavy hair, pale complexion, and blueish eyes. Yet, everything about the boy‘s behaviour, stance, and personality was so strikingly different from Cruhteo's that it seemed impossible to compare them. Even when he had been his age, when his father had still ruled the Clan with absolute authority and raised Cruhteo as a soldier and successor to win wars first and a child to be doted on last, he had never looked this timid or perpetually guilty and apologetic, and it was just one more point on the list of things that irritated him about Slaine. Yet he could not say for sure if it was the fact that they might be similar indeed or the fact that Slaine failed at realising that potential that was truly bothering him.  
  
“I am very sorry to have caused you trouble, Sir.“  
Cruhteo snapped from his thoughts as Slaine unexpectedly addressed him with a deep bow, the oddly similar blond hair of his fringe obscuring his eyes. The rest of the officers remained dead silent, realising the grave offence of the low-standing servant speaking without being addressed first, and wondered about the almost self-destructive tendency to add fuel to the fire that Slaine occasionally seemed to display, straight-up reminding the Count of the embarrassing situation rather than waiting in silence and hoping that he might choose to try and forget it. Cruhteo knew he should punish this misconduct, and it would be a welcome and easy way to take his anger at Femianne‘s remark out on someone that had no choice but to silently take it, and would deserve it, too, being ultimately the reason, even if unwitting.  
“Troyard.“  
“Yes, Sir?“  
Slaine raised his head, looking at Cruhteo with a weird mixture of defiance and acceptance.  
“From now on, you are to remain out of sight during any and all video communications and official meetings unless I specifically order you to be present. Am I clear?“  
“Yes, Sir.“  
He bowed again, the relief upon Cruhteo‘s calm and collected order obvious in the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, showing only too clearly he had been mentally prepared for the worst.  
“You‘re dismissed, stay out of my line of sight for the rest of day.“  
  
With that, he walked past Slaine, who was still bowing, not halting until he could hear the soft hiss of the doors closing behind him. Being called similar to a human despite the fact that the people of Vers were a different species now, it was an uncomfortable reminder of the fact that what set him apart from the people to his feet was nothing but a revokable tenure, one that could just as easily be given to Slaine as well - and probably eventually would, too, with how dear he was to the Princess - and despite being nothing but Cruhteo‘s servant, his mere presence seemed to mock and degrade him. Cruhteo noticed that his knuckles had gone white, hand clenched around his cane too tightly, and forced himself to take a deep breath. He was unable to get rid of Slaine, so all he could do was to stand above the matter and treat him as a subordinate, and the next time he spoke out of turn again, the consequences would be more severe, probably fueled by the anger and indignation that was still burning inside his chest.

 ** **\----------------**  
** **iv.   understanding**  
 **\----------------**

The pale blue light reflected from the water‘s surface cast its hue on their faces, giving an illusion that they were underwater themselves, as Cruhteo walked down the final steps to the Kataphraktoi hangar deep in the bowels of the Landing Castle, Slaine trailing behind him, a reverberating echo of their out of sync footsteps on the metal grid the only sound in the silence. When they came to a halt at the railing and the waiting mechanics, Cruhteo paid Slaine no mind as he quickly flipped through the inspection results he was handed, pleased to see Tharsis was still in an impeccable state as always, ready to launch at any given moment. He considered it a matter of honour to make occasional inspections of his Kataphrakt in person whereas some Knights left that sort of thing entirely to their crew. Cruhteo was certain that it was this sort of extra effort that granted one the edge of advantage in battle. It was only after he had finished his conversation with the mechanics, dismissing them with the order to check on Argyre as well, that he turned to notice Slaine standing transfixed, head tilted back to stare up at Tharsis in obvious awe, the heart and pride of Count Cruhteo‘s armoury, intimidating even in its half submerged and dormant state.  
  
“You are rightfully impressed.“  
Cruhteo could not help the self-satisfied pride seeping into his voice as he turned towards Tharsis and rested his hands on the railing as well, watching the play of light over the polished steel, making it almost seem as if the Kataphrakt itself was breathing.  
“It is by far the fastest Kataphrakt among the Orbital Knights and unbeatable in mêlée combat.“  
“It is gorgeous“, Slaine said in a quiet voice, genuine as always. Cruhteo had begun thinking that this boy might be incapable of lying and hiding his true agendas in general, making him way too easy to read and prey upon.  
  
“You should not forget that it is an instrument of war, intended to eradicate your kind“, Cruhteo reminded him, turning just in time to see Slaine jerk back from the railing as if he had burned his hands and stare at him, eyes wide and looking hurt in a way that almost made Cruhteo laugh.  
“We are living in the era of armistice, yes, but who knows for how much longer. You need to be mentally prepared to follow me into combat, no questions asked, and you will see this very same Kataphrakt you just called gorgeous slaughter your own people. Does your loyalty extend that far, Slaine Troyard?“  
For a long moment, Slaine did not reply, but just continued staring at him, chest heaving ever so slightly, and Cruhteo could practically feel the anger and fear for the future radiating from him like heat. Then, the boy composed himself, straightening his back and lifting his chin, and looked up at Cruhteo in calm.  
“My loyalty lies with Princess Asseylum“, he declared solemnly, “and whatever her wish regarding this matter will be, I will comply without fail.“  
Cruhteo felt the corners of his mouth twitch.  
“Even if she asks of you to kill your own countrymen?“  
He could read clear as day in his eyes that the boy was of unshakeable conviction that the Princess would never wish for or order the start of a war, and maybe he was right, at least for the time being. And yet, he still replied in the same solemn tone, meeting Cruhteo‘s taunting gaze evenly.  
“Even then.“  
Cruhteo gave a short, humourless laugh.  
“I shall commend your loyalty to the Princess then - as soon as you prove it to be more than just empty words, that is.“  
He turned around to walk back up the stairs, leaving Tharsis behind. When he had reached the first landing, he noticed that the echo of Slaine‘s footsteps that he had gotten so used to was missing, and turned around to see him still standing at the bottom of the staircase, hands clenched into fists at his sides, looking up at him with unusual defiance.  
“I definitely will not fail in my loyalty.“  
  
He just watched him for a moment, wondering if that spirit, which the boy only ever showed when it came to Her Royal Highness, was something Cruhteo liked or disliked.  
“Well, in that case I recommend you continue working on your flying, Slaine, because in actual combat I won‘t need an unreliable pilot that cannot even guarantee to deliver and collect a Kataphrakt in one piece.“  
He had already taken the next few steps when he finally heard a quiet “Yes, Sir“ and the sound of Slaine catching up to him as quickly as possible, falling back into pace with him and trailing the usual few steps behind. In some way, the useless weight he had been ordered to drag along had become an almost pleasant presence he had gotten too familiar with to really resent. And if he was entirely honest with himself, there was a spark of curiosity inside him to wait and see just what kind of person Slaine would grow into, whether he would crash and burn or emerge out of the unavoidable struggle ahead as stronger and more confident; maybe even become truly similar to Cruhteo some day.

 ** **\----------------**  
** **v.   transcendence**  
 **\----------------**

“It becomes you, Sir.“  
Slaine flinched and almost dropped the folder he was holding, jerking his head up to blankly stare at Harklight, who had just stepped into his office. It was all too apparent that the young Knight had not yet gotten used to his change of status, still too caught up in his role as a servant, openly confused at how to interact with his new subordinates and all too prone to fall back into submissive behavioural patterns himself.  
“The new Knight‘s uniform, I mean“, Harklight elaborated as there was no response, walking up to the desk and giving a short bow. “You really look like a worthy heir to the Clan‘s Kataphrakt now. I‘m sure Count Crutheo would have agreed.“  
“Aah“, Slaine replied weakly, putting the folder down, and leaned back in his chair, tugging at the hem of his sleeves a little. „Thank you, I am not quite used to it yet.“  
It was probably something that would take time, Harklight thought, especially given the chaotic circumstances in which the whole change had taken place. His new lord seemed at a loss how to interact with someone older and yet of a lower standing such as him; to him, the difference in meaning of the grey uniform that he now wore as a Knight as compared to the one had worn for years was all probably more apparent when he was seeing it on someone else. What he needed was re-assurance, Harklight had decided, and continued talking as he picked up the files from the desk.  
  
“In fact, you do resemble him a lot, Sir, the way he looked in his younger years.“  
“Do you really think that? I‘ve been told that before, but I really can‘t see it. I could never be as imposing as he was.“  
Slaine sighed and rubbed over his eyes with the heels of his hands, looking tired and older than he was all of a sudden.  
“A lot of the impression a Count makes on others is due to the way they carry themselves. You eventually will naturally inherit that as well, Sir, I‘m certain of it.“  
“They still seem so much greater than me, even now“, Slaine said, his voice quiet and flat, eyes remaining closed even as he dropped his hands. “You know, when I first boarded Tharsis I had some problems using it simply due to the fact that it was built for someone way taller than me.“  
Getting that issue fixed had been no problem, but Harklight understood the implication well enough. Trying to fill in footsteps that seemed too large was a disheartening and exhausting task, and his hand was on Slaine‘s shoulder before he could have second thoughts about it being a transgression of position.  
“You‘ll grow into it, both mentally and physically, Sir.“  
“Thank you, Harklight.“  
Slaine opened his eyes and gave him a tired but honest smile, neither batting his hand away nor acknowledging it in any other way until Harklight drew back and turned to leave. When he had almost reached the door, Slaine spoke again, so quietly that it might not have even been meant for anyone's ears but his own.  
  
“I wonder if that is what I want to become, similar to them.“  
Harklight paused on the doorstep, considering what to say, and whether to say anything at all, before settling on his answer.  
“We are influenced by the people around us, and we can‘t change that. In the end, it will be your decisions, however, that will show how similar to them you truly are to them. If you follow your own ideals, you will remain yourself, no matter how great anyone's influence is. That‘s what I think, at least“, he added as an afterthought, wondering if he had dared too much, but Slaine gave him another smile.  
“I inherited Tharsis, which is unique, so there are things that only I can do, and have to do. I will not falter from loyalties I chose. If that is enough to remain myself, then...“ He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought, and stared through the window wall behind his desk at the Earth‘s blue radiance in the distance, effectively ending the conversation.  
  
As Harklight slowly walked down the corridor leading away from Slaine‘s office, he wondered how much of the similarity between his new lord and Count Cruhteo had been there from the beginning, and how much had been acquired, a question that only observation would probably answer. And if it was reassurance and continuous support that Slaine needed to put his mind at ease over this matter, then it was what Harklight could offer, both out of own volition and according to the instructions he had received upon Slaine‘s arrival.  
 _“You are to remain at Slaine Troyard‘s side as his loyal adjutant at all times.“_

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Credits for the title go to Kurosaki Ichigo‘s and Ishida Uryū‘s first duet character song and its writer, the section headings are taken from Immanuel Kant‘s _Critique of Pure Reason_. Also, I am fiercely rooting for Harklight not being a douche to Slaine, seriously, that boy needs one kind and adoring friend in his life, he deserves it, and if Inaho keeps on refusing to take up this role, please let it be Harklight.


End file.
